When I was nine, my twin sister drowned while we were swimming, and I never told anyone that I had lost her hand. Years later, at 24, I became a swimming instructor, carrying that guilt silently. For two weeks, a mother watched me through the pool window until one day she pressed a photograph against the glass and thanked me for saving her six-year-old daughter, who had suffered a seizure in the water. I had pulled her out and performed CPR until help arrived. Through tears, she told me her daughter would be joining my beginner class on Monday. As I held the rain-soaked photograph, I realized that sometimes saving someone else can help heal the part of yourself you thought would never be forgiven.
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